When She is Wounded, I Bleed
by Dylan S. Thompson
Summary: Santana tries to make Brittany feel better.  Title taken from an Abigail Adams quote, although altered slightly.


**When She is Wounded, I Bleed**

Brittany was crying; sobbing, inconsolably. Santana held her girlfriend close, feeling more helpless than she ever had, making random sounds of support. She was willing to do anything to offer some small amount of comfort. Nothing had worked so far. In the half-hour since Brittany had received the news, she had been wracked with ugly, choking sobs. When Brittany hurt, Santana hurt. Tears were streaming down her own face as Santana hummed soothingly to her girlfriend.

After years of joking about it, and after months of bracing for it as the jokes slowly became less and less funny, definite word had come in: despite Brittany's best efforts, despite countless Brittana study nights, despite help from all of their friends…Brittany had still failed senior English and Trigonometry. She wouldn't be graduating with her friends, with her girlfriend. She would need at least summer school, and maybe to repeat the twelfth grade.

"So stupid," Brittany whispered, voice thick with tears. "I'm so stupid! So dumb!"

Santana reacted immediately, pulling Brittany even closer and wrapping her arms even tighter around the blonde. She wrapped her legs around her as well in an attempt to bring them as close as possible. "No honey," Santana whispered into her girlfriend's blonde hair. She pressed soft kisses to the top of Brittany's head and whispered, "No, no no."

"You deserve so much better than me," Brittany moaned.

"No," Santana responded firmly.

"I'm worthless," Brittany whispered brokenly.

"No!" exclaimed Santana. She sat up and pulled Brittany up with her. Santana cupped Brittany's face in her hands and stared into her eyes. "You never say that again, alright? Never ever. You are the most amazing person I have ever met, Britt; you're all I ever wanted. Okay?"

Brittany regarded Santana with wonder through her tear-rimmed eyes. Though she still mostly looked devastated, Santana's words had made her even more thankful and appreciative of the brunette, even if Brittany truly felt undeserving of her at the moment. "Okay," she whimpered, nodding slightly.

Santana took Brittany's effort as progress and smiled encouragingly at the girl. They fell back to the surface of Brittany's bed, cuddling in silence. After a few minutes, however, Brittany's sniffles returned and the tears started again. Not quite as powerful as before, but still a clear sign that a few loving words couldn't fix everything.

She knew that, of course. She knew that this wasn't something to be fixed, only endured and eventually overcome. But…God, she wished she could. She wished she could absorb Brittany's pain, or physically obliterate it with the power of her own love. She couldn't, though. She could only hold Britt tightly as she cried out a lifetime of hurt.

Santana knew Brittany better than anyone. She knew that Brittany had been fearful of this very thing since eighth grade. She knew that Brittany often felt completely helpless because of her lack of intellect, her utter inability to understand certain things. Santana knew that every derisive comment, every rolled eye, every frustrated sigh from their peers cut deep for the blonde. She knew that when Brittany had found out the truth about Santana Claus she had been overcome with embarrassment and shame because her friends had lied to her, had treated her like she was a child who couldn't understand or handle "adult" truths. Santana knew that Brittany, in her darkest hours, felt the same self-loathing Santana herself had felt once upon a time. Being with Brittany had mostly erased such feelings in Santana…it crushed the brunette to know that they'd only increased in Brittany. Brittany was terrified of being left behind, of Santana going to college and meeting someone that had everything Brittany had but also the things she lacked.

It was nonsense, of course. Santana had only ever loved one person and would only ever love on person. She wouldn't change anything about Brittany, and she didn't want anything Brittany didn't have. She told her girlfriend this often, and Brittany believed and accepted it most of the time…but tonight every ugly fear was being felt worse than ever.

Santana sighed despondently and nuzzled into Brittany's neck, pressing her lips against the blonde's soft skin. "I love you," she murmured.

""I love you too," Brittany replied plaintively. She gripped Santana's forearm with urgency and stated, "I'll try harder this summer, I promise. I'll do good."

Santana swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. "Brittany…"

"I promise," Brittany reaffirmed.

Santana closed her mouth and simply nodded. That's what the other girl needed right now. Brittany nodded as well and snuggled further back into Santana's body. They lay in silence.

But Santana couldn't leave it at that. She contemplated for several minutes exactly what she wanted to say, but eventually decided to wing it and pray that it made an impact.

"Did you know that there was a time when books didn't exist?"

"Really?"

"Really," Santana affirmed. "There was a time when human beings didn't know what books were, or even what writing was. And there was no such thing as math. For most of the time human beings have existed, actually, none of that mattered."

"Because they were living in caves?"

Santana chuckled and said, "Well…some of the time. But cities, farming, government, religion, art, dance, and a whole lot of other things were invented before writing or math existed. People forget that. People today want to imagine people back then as stupid, as barely able to think. But it's not true. I think they were way smarter than most people today. They didn't need How-To Books, or Self-Help Books, or instructions…they just did things. They figured things out, and if they failed the first time they tried again and learned from the experience. That's how you are. Like that time you had to make chocolate chip cookies, but the recipe confused you. So you just tried to figure it out on your own. Sure, the first nine times the cookies were literally poisonous, but that tenth time…and every time since then…you make the best chocolate chip cookies anyone has ever tasted.

But even before we invented civilization, people were still damn smart. They just thought different things were important. You didn't need to memorize or analyze or plan…you needed to act. You needed to do. It wasn't important how smart your mind was, it was important how smart your body was. Dancing was important. Fighting was important. Fucking was important. If you could do these things well, you were set. If you did them the best, you were in charge. If you had been alive back then, Brittany, you wouldn't have just been well-off …you would have been considered a goddess. Literally a goddess. People would have come from miles away just to look at you and worship you, because you're brilliant when it comes to all of those things.

And none of the teachers want us to realize it, but being smart the way they want isn't all that important even today. Nobody in the real world will care if you know square roots or the themes of "Hamlet". People will just be in awe of you and respond positively to you, especially if you go into dancing like you want. They'll see what's really important, same as I do. Because it doesn't matter to me how smart you are according to some stupid teacher or stupider test. I know that you're a genius, an absolute genius, in other ways. I know that you're the kindest, most positive, most charismatic person I've ever met. Even if no one else ever does realize it, I'll know. You'll always be my goddess, Brittany. Always."

Brittany looked up at Santana with awe. There were still tears in her eyes, but they were of gratitude and love. "Promise?" She whispered.

Santana nodded, wiping the tears from her own eyes, and said, "I absolutely promise."

Brittany nestled her head against Santana's chest and closed her eyes. Santana closed her eyes as well. Tomorrow, she knew, there would be more sadness. There was no fix to be found, even in a lot of loving words. This wasn't something to be fixed. Tomorrow there would be more tears, more comforting, and serious discussions about the future. But right now they could fall asleep somewhat happy, definitely content, with smiles on their lips.

The End


End file.
